Broken Ties and Sticky Tape
by goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: It's been six years since Stiles has seen Derek Hale, five since he left Beacon Hills High School, three since he's seen Scott McCall... and now it's New Years Eve. Scott calls, he has a request: a pack meeting, but he doesn't tell Stiles that the elusive (abandoning) Derek Hale is on the guest list. Then, , Beacon Hills lives up to its reputation of never slowing down.
1. Broken Ties

He was a little surprised when his phone rang, and when he looked away from the book he was currently nose deep in (Latin could be difficult to read, so sue him for trying to decipher it with his face) he had to read the caller ID twice: Scott "Wolf Boy" McCall.

It had been three years.

A new year was rolling around, a year to mark the five that he and the rest of the McCall pack had been apart, going their separate ways for separate careers, losing contact after two years of phone calls and arrangements and meetings that never went to plan and then just forgetting to call until now, when Stiles hadn't heard word from anyone for three years.

He was in college, taking random courses that lasted a year or so and taking several at once. He still had no idea what he wanted to do with his career, and what his career would be. As a kid, he had wanted to be the president: ambitious, but Stiles was not the kind of person for office work. He was still, however, practising the skills he had acquired in his last years of high school: hunting.

Though he had yet to kill anything supernatural, Stiles now knew the ins and outs of hunting and courtesy of Deaton knew about five old languages and all about the witch-like stuff that Deaton did.

And now his best friend, who had played fake Quidditch with him in his backyard and had helped him blow up one of the chemistry labs in their high school, was calling _him. _Not that they'd had any falling out or had completely abandoned one another but… he hadn't expected to hear from the Alpha in a long time.

Gently putting the old book in his hands down, Stiles climbed off of his bed and picked up the phone from his bedside table. He had requested a single dorm in his second year, paying the extra fee in order to cake his walls in things that were either relevant or irrelevant. On one wall there was nothing but four yarns of string sitting on a shelf and about a dozen pin holes in the wall. He was helping his dad to solve cases in his spare time, calling up his father as a fresher mind, and as a better researcher than the police department combined.

He pulled himself from his introversion and tentatively picked up the phone "Hi Scott"

/

A social call.

For the New Year.

With the pack.

He should have said no.

But he couldn't, not while Scott had pleaded with him and Stiles could just imagine those big puppy dog eyes and his resolve simply had to break because this was _Scott_ – his best friend and partner in crime. He couldn't say no… not ever.

His Jeep pulled into the driveway of Scott's old house, the fond memories of long nights of horror movies or game nights coming to surface and bringing a smile to his features. He was the first to arrive (An obligation, as the best friend he had to arrive first) and stepping out of his Jeep and, essentially, back into Beacon Hills, felt good.

He was home.

He knew that Scott had probably heard his approach from miles out of town and when his best friend basically tore down his own door to greet him, he guessed that he was definitely right. The embrace he was pulled into was tight around his shoulders, splayed hands across his shoulders and Stiles could practically feel the power shift beneath Scott's skin in waves of _Alpha Wolf_.

He was glad he was still human otherwise he'd be buckling under the weight of the feeling.

"You're here" Scott announced, as if they were both unaware of Stiles' presence until Scott spoke.

Stiles smiled toothlessly and nodded "I am"

They spent a full hour catching up, hugging, punching, joking and laughing: like they'd never been away and they were still concerned with grades and inviting girls to formals. The cruel reality was ignored for an hour, and then Stiles' curiosity got the better of him: he asked who was able to come.

He got the predicted answer:

"Cora, Malia, Kira, Isaac, Jackson, you know, the pack?" Scott answered, with a smile that said: sometimes my best friend can be so weird.

"That's it?" Stiles asked "I'm not going to meet anyone new or creepy am I? Because I don't really want another Peter or anything like that… is Peter coming? No, don't tell me, he probably is… why are you looking at me like that?"

Scott had this face, it looked like he was scared of Stiles… that he was preparing for some kind of speech and then he answered "Derek's coming too"

/

Everyone started arriving as the sun became low in the sky, and Scott seemed better as more and more cars started pooling into his driveway and onto the nature strip.

Stiles was equally as happy: he had formed a sort of bond with the pack, and they had done the same with him, even if he was the only human: he was pack… he mattered.

Lydia had arrived close to last, and their reunion wasn't as awkward as he had thought it would be. They had hugged, and she had smiled and pinched his cheek gently, telling him he looked good. Stiles had responded with his usual intellect with "I… you… You look good too…"

Peter and Cora were right behind Lydia, Cora with a friendly punch to Stiles' arm which hurt (he thought he hid it well) and Peter with a clap to his shoulder before the ex-alpha psychopath turned advisor moved on to Scott.

Then he heard the familiar purring of the Camaro, the sound of loose gravel stones crunching beneath its wheels, and the sight of the black, sleek car gliding to a stop behind Kira's adorable little car (It really was, especially compared to Stiles' Jeep, which looked like a giant to the smaller car). And then a familiar (painfully so) figure stepped out of the car and was swarmed by the entire pack. There was an uncharacteristic smile on Derek's face and the older man looked _good_. Somehow, he had become better looking during his time away.

Stiles was torn, a tirade of emotions flowing through him as he stood rooted to the spot. Derek had left them after the pack had dealt with Deucalion without a word or warning, left Scott with Alpha Power and left his family to fend for themselves. He had also left Stiles.

They had been getting along really well, walking in the preserve, watching movies and spending nights on top of a cliff looking up at the stars or out at the city, not a word spoken between them. During the supernatural shit-storm after Derek had left Stiles had never felt so helpless, so unable to help with everything and anything. Scott had been great, his guardian, strong and defiant to defeat, but he didn't quite feel safe. That was when he had taken up training with Chris Argent and Deaton: because he had needed to be stronger for his pack.

When the entirety of the pack started to dissipate, and Scott had had his brotherly moment, where he placed a hand on Derek's shoulder and pulled the still taller man to him in a manly sort of hug thing. Stiles stood, still and unsure, as Derek met his gaze carefully and with a slight smile tugging at his lips. Scott was making his way inside when Stiles' feet began to work and he met Derek halfway across the front lawn and they stood there for the longest time, the setting sun highlighting one side of each of their faces.

Stiles launched himself at Derek, chest colliding with Derek's as he threw his arms around the werewolves' neck, burying his nose in Derek's neck and pressing their bodies together tightly. The tirade of emotions had been shoved aside by the one he felt with the most strength: relief. Relief that Derek was alive and well, that he was tangible and warm and embracing him tightly, his own nose buried in Stiles' neck and breathing deeply.

"Hi Stiles"


	2. Sticky Tape

The party was in full swing, music filling Scott's large backyard, fairy lights illuminating the grass and pavement while food and drink and those cliché red cups sat across two tables covered in a blue cloth. Stiles was watching his clock, it read 11:30. All night he had been catching up with the pack, and now he was standing next to Peter, whose gaze was trained on the full moon above their heads, his eyes flashing a pale blue for a spilt second before reverting back to their original colour.

"Funny night Stiles" he commented calmly, voice quiet and tone soft.

Stiles nodded, eyes falling over the members of the pack, noting one was missing "Where's Derek?"

"Just past the house, I suppose six years of isolation would make you sick of parties and people… especially this many people" Peter answered, folding his arms and smirking "You'd think he'd be glad for a pack again"

"He's not?" Stiles asked, confused and curious at the answer he had been given.

Peter shook his head "No, he's not… it's like… it's like sleeping on a hotel bed, you miss your old bed like crazy, but then you get home and you discover the little hole in the sheet, the scraping material and the lumps in its mattress… only then do you want for the hotel bed… Derek's in limbo between the two beds… essentially he's sleeping in his car, unsure if he wants to go home or run away again"

"That was… deep" Stiles tried after a moment of silence "I'll be back"

"Watch him Stiles, it's been six years" Peter warned, and Stiles had to stop and memorise what concern sounded like coming from Peter.

He looked to Scott for a moment, making a gesture to say that he was leaving the back yard and the Alpha nodded, mouthing 'don't be long' before returning to his conversation with Jackson and Isaac. As he moved away from the house, the music and light slowly faded, and the air seemed to get colder. Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and spotted Derek close by the beginning of trees, shoulders set and head down.

He didn't know what to say, and the tirade of emotions began again, this time with anger and hurt rearing their ugly heads.

"You left" he bit out, words harsh and unexpected even to him.

Derek nodded and turned to Stiles, head tilting up to compensate for the small incline he was at the bottom of "I know"

His acceptance bothered Stiles, the way he just admitted to tearing up their lives "Scott was so scared… he had no idea what he was doing… finding our parents cost us the safety of Beacon Hills, I've seen creatures I didn't believe existed outside of the Supernatural novels… I – _We_ needed you Derek" Stiles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, peering at Derek past his hand "I wanted to hate you… for a really long time I thought I did… thought I could" another sigh and then Derek was right in front of him, eyebrows knotted together in concern, a look he had only ever seen when he was injured or the pack was in trouble.

He lifted his arms into the air in a defeated way "But I couldn't because I was in love with you… still can't" he admitted, and in that instant he saw the moment when Derek put together that Stiles was not the same teenager he'd left alone six years ago.

"You loved me" Derek repeated, a little dull and flat.

"Still love you" Stiles confessed, a sort of weight falling from his heart "And when you left it hurt everyone…"

"I…" Derek began, but Stiles silenced him with a shake of his head

"I forgave you ages ago Derek… it's the rest of the pack who needs an apology, and maybe the readoption of the third Hale" Stiles advised.

This time it was Derek's turn to shake his head "No… I was going to say I love you too… I just didn't know how to say it then"

Stiles scoffed "This is sickeningly easy… come on; Scott's bound to be worried by now"

They walked back to the party together, hand in hand, and Derek didn't let go when they came into view, nor did he let it go for the rest of the night. He had promised Scott that there would be no more silence between them, and on the stroke of twelve he kissed Stiles in front of everyone else.

In Stiles' very relevant opinion: it wasn't a bad start to a new year.


	3. Covering The Cracks

He woke fuzzily, the world a brief blur before it fell into focus and the sun glared at his open eyes, forcing him to throw an arm over his eyes and take stock of what was going on. He was at Scott's, in a guest room.

His head hurt…. _Hangover_.

Diagnosis complete, Stiles swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up shakily, legs feeling weak and stomach protesting with a violent wrenching feeling that brought on a strange dizziness.

The time it took him to get to the bathroom was probably record breaking as he pushed off the nearest wall and ran for the open door, collapsing to his knees almost immediately.

The contents of his stomach was emptied out with a strangled retching noise that just made him feel sicker and more likely to vomit than when he had first woken up. Slowly, after a moment of staring at his knees for a good minute, he stood and flushed the toilet, removing the evidence of his queasiness and moving over to the sink and turning on the water, splashing his face a few times and running a now wet hand across the back of his neck.

He met his own reflection in the mirror, slightly blood shot eyes with a pale face stared straight back at him, and Stiles groaned softly: he had managed to get himself drunk last night… he ran a hand through his bed messed hair and closed his eyes to the headache he was currently suffering from.

The sound of footsteps was almost deafening, and Stiles had to refrain from snapping the other person's head off.

"Hangover cure?"

Stiles looked up to find that the offer had come from Peter, who had probably heard his scramble to the bathroom, and the older male held out a clear cup filled with an orange liquid in it that smelt off and Stiles _almost_ lost his stomach again.

He downed it in one go, grimacing and sticking out his tongue as if it would air out the taste and then trying to wash it out with water, listening to Peter's movements behind him. When he next looked up, the older male was leaning his back against the doorframe, examining his fingers in a bored way.

"Did I miss the part where you became considerate?" Stiles asked, pushing himself up and onto the edge of the sink.

"No… I never became considerate" Peter answered slowly "I just had a member of the family returned to me; I'm allowed a little compassion… I'll scratch your beck… you scratch mine"

"Meaning?" Stiles asked vaguely, swinging out his legs away from the sink.

"Meaning my nephew is interested in you, and that makes it my job to make sure you're in tip-top condition for him" Peter answered with a toothless smile, turning his gaze to Stiles.

Stiles groaned and rested his head against the cool of the mirror behind him, headache receding slowly "That sounds so creepy you know"

Peter huffed with a smile "You don't complain about my supposed creepiness and I won't complain when you and Derek are a little too loud and I feel the urge to get a high pressure hose"

He would have been between embarrassed and frustrated if he hadn't heard an exasperated yell of "PETER!" which had obviously come from Derek's mouth.

Peter only chuckled and pushed off the door frame he had been leaning on, quickly, but noticeably checking himself in the mirror behind Stiles before leaving.

"Conceited werewolf…" Stiles murmured to himself, sliding off the sink and re-entering his temporary room, tugging off his shirt and tossing it behind him, freezing when he didn't hear it thunk into the hamper. Stiles turned around carefully and watched as Derek gently dropped his shirt into the hamper from where he had caught it.

A long time ago he would have flailed wildly and hidden from Derek in his half naked state, but newfound confidence repelled the urge to do so "Nearly get you did I?"

Derek only nodded with a smile "Nearly"

Stiles grinned and turned around, searching through the suitcase he had brought with him and pulling out a shirt and jacket.

Derek had ceased standing near the door way and instead sat down on the nearby armchair, shuffling slightly to get comfortable.

Stiles sighed as he pulled the newer shirt over his head and then picked up a pair of jeans and went back into the bathroom, getting dressed in record speed before ducking back out and pointing an accusatory finger in Derek's direction "Before you say anything, I'm fine now, Peter is not that bad… I'm a little curious as to why he's being so nice and also… I don't regret a thing" he said speedily, the look on Derek's face bringing back memories of days long gone "Don't look at me like that"

"Like what?" Derek asked plainly, tilting his head to the left slightly.

"Like 'that's so Stiles'" he answered, walking over to the bed and making it efficiently, pulling the sheets taught and throwing the pillows off of the bed haphazardly, grinning when he noticed Derek stopping one from hitting his chest by catching it with two hands.

"… Now I have nothing to say" Derek responded, standing from the armchair and moving to the other side of the bed to assist Stiles "Guess you'll just have to keep talking"

Stiles froze: arms rigid as he looked to Derek disbelievingly "Did you just make a joke? You don't make jokes, you don't… are you A-Okay Sourwolf?" he got a hook on his rant before it fell out of control by clamping his mouth shut.

Derek chuckled and gave Stiles a smile that looked so fond and melted all of the icy stares that the werewolf used to give him when he rambled "I'm fantastic Stiles… we're dating… right?"

Stiles returned to making the bed and nodded with a smile "Yes, we are… doing that"

Once they'd finished, Derek stood straight and nodded seriously, a sort of shocked look on his face before he looked to Stiles, who gave a shaky smile because his legs felt a little weak and his heart was trying to break free of his ribcage.

The werewolf grinned back and closed the gap between them with a tight embrace, hands splayed against Stiles' back, one arm around his waist and the other at his shoulders. Stiles sighed softly and settled into Derek, wrapping his own arms around the older man's waist tightly, breathing in the smell of pine, leather and dirt.

"You always smell so forest-y" Stiles murmured, flexing his hands against Derek's jacket slowly.

Derek chuckled, pressing his face into Stiles' neck "You smell like books"

"I smell like books" Stiles repeated lamely "Like… all the time?"

Derek just chuckled again and tightened his grip on Stiles "Only right now"

"Are you flirting? Did the wolves teach you pick up lines? Or maybe the trees taught you how to improve your conversation skills?" Stiles stopped when Derek growled softly, even though it felt playful, Stiles had grown to associate that sound with trouble. He could learn to change that.

"When do you have to go back?" Derek murmured, voice rumbling deep in his chest while his warm breath whispered against Stiles' neck.

"My courses are online: that's one of the reasons I brought the laptop with me: so I didn't have to leave right away" Stiles answered, lifting one arm from Derek's back to wave it in the direction of his suitcase.

He felt rather than saw Derek nod in understanding, and the werewolf squeezed him gently, lifting away his head to press a chaste kiss to Stiles' lips "Okay"

A throat clearing was what broke them apart, jumping away from one another like startled birds, and Stiles tried to put on a face of innocence and turned to Scott, who was standing in the doorway, two fingers raised as if to knock on the doorframe.

"Morning" Scott stated simply, smiling away his obvious awkwardness with practised ease as he turned to Stiles "How's your head? Peter said you looked wrecked and I can't say I disagree"

Stiles scoffed and waved a hand in Scott's direction "I'm fine, I've been tossed around by grumpy werewolves: I think I can handle a hangover"

That got a growl from Derek and an undignified snort from Scott, who tilted his head to indicate to Stiles that he should follow. Saluting to Derek, Stiles followed Scott's lead down the stairs of the house and into the kitchen. "Your dad called, said he'd be by at around lunch so… I'm glad I didn't have to wake you up"

"And the pack?" Stiles asked, making himself comfortable almost instantly: this was Scott's house, he was home, and there were no formalities here.

"Peter, Cora, Kira and Derek are hanging around, everyone else has gone back to college or home" Scott answered, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking a little like a lost puppy "I really expected more to stay…. Or for them to at least stay a little longer"

"You don't have to use my dad to make me stay Scott, and don't say you're not because I know you… we're best friends, I'm not going to leave after one night" Stiles assured

"One night with Derek" Scott said with a smirk and Stiles just waved his hands in Scott's direction to display his frustration.

"We just kissed! Honestly do you think I'd do that in your house?! Seriously Scott, you need therapy or something"

His best friend just grinned, clearly satisfied with Stiles' reaction and as he turned to do other things Stiles realised that Scott really hadn't changed since he'd last seen him. "I missed you" Stiles stated simply, smiling when Scott turned to him with a confused look and pulling his friend into a hug, patting his back gently "Don't change okay?"

Now he was getting sentimental.

He heard Derek enter the room and imagined him leaning against the wall of the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest. Stiles smiled toothlessly and closed his eyes, resting his chin on Scott's shoulder. He was home.

And he didn't plan on leaving anytime soon.


	4. Checking For Splinters Or Frays

The preserve was very much the way that Stiles remembered it, dark and spooky at night, but calm and full of life in the day. The sun was low in the sky, rising slowly and steadily as Stiles pounded down the rough tracks in the large forest, body warm from exercise and heart thumping steadily.

He'd been in Beacon Hills for roughly a week now, and had spent a lot of his time running or keeping up recently learnt skills. He was back in his old room, and when he'd first seen it he'd admittedly cried just a little because it looked exactly the same as he had left it: just a little bare.

As the sun climbed, the preserve became a little brighter; trees and plants were illuminated by orange light and any remaining condensation from the cold night was slowly vanishing in the warmth of the sun. Stiles' feet skidded slightly against some of the underbrush of the forest and his arms flailed slightly, regaining his balance before picking up speed again.

He'd had a lot of time left around to think of late, and running helped him get his wayward thoughts together, to package them all in little boxes and close those little boxes to stamp them with **"SORTED"** in big red letters. Scott had been running with him, until his own studies took him out of Beacon Hills because not everything could be done in their little community college.

Scott had been insistent on staying as close to Beacon Hills as possible, not that anyone beyond the Hales had listened to them. The Argents were apparently in France, Lydia had gone to whichever college she pleased because they had _all_ wanted her. The twins and Jackson had all gone south somewhere that made Stiles breathe a little easier at night, and Isaac, who had still taken Scott's wishes into account, had only gone about an hour away from Beacon Hills to study.

Stiles had chosen to study at Stanford, who had accepted him on the basis of his application, and he didn't aim to disappoint them. He had been living on campus, working a few day jobs to keep up the price of the room, until the end of the last term: when he'd alerted the college to his plans and had reunited with his old room.

His house looked exactly the same, lit up by the rising sun. He was panting slightly, and a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead and arms. He stepped into his house as quietly as possible, finding a towel and drying himself off, padding back into his room and changing out of the loose clothes of his morning and into a pair of jeans and a blue, long sleeved, shirt. He treaded down the stairs and into his kitchen and searched the fridge, deciding on something else and closing it behind him, taking a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it with water, downing the cool liquid in one go.

Caffeine was overrated anyway.

He heard his father coming down the stairs and immediately took to making him breakfast, planning at first on something that didn't require a frying pan but deciding instead that bacon and eggs was the universal 'good morning' breakfast and started that instead. By the time his father had entered the kitchen Stiles was halfway through making coffee and settling breakfast onto a plate.

"… Morning kiddo…"

Stiles grinned at his father's uncertainty and slide the plate, now full, across the kitchen counter "How was the late shift?"

He barely repressed a laugh at his father's caution when the older man nodded vaguely and took the plate gingerly, softly thanking Stiles as he placed the steaming mug of coffee beside the plate. "You're up early"

"I'm always up early" Stiles answered, sitting opposite his father "its part of my 'being able to take on werewolves' routine"

"Well… I'm not complaining" his father said with a smile as he ate "Any particular reason you're still hanging around?"

Stiles shrugged and then scoffed "If you're suggesting it's because I'm suddenly reunited with the Hales and Scott, you'd be almost right" he answered, and then continued at his father's nod "I like seeing my family: that's a given, and it's also partially because I _know_ Beacon Hills: it never stops being weird, and with Scott turning the 'we'll be back soon' sign I think that maybe something supernatural will decide that without the Alpha Wolf in town, there is a chance to wreak havoc"

"You say something like that and I begin to wonder why it all makes perfect sense" his father responded "Thank you by the way… for this" he added, gesturing towards the empty plate and mug.

"Duty calls?" Stiles asked as his father stood up and messed around with shoes and belts and guns and the other Sherriff stuff that they had within the house.

"Duty calls" his father confirmed with a smile, clapping his son on the shoulder "Try not to get into too much trouble"

Stiles rolled his eyes in a way that felt a little too youthful "I'm twenty-two dad, I think I can handle myself"

As the pair walked out of the house Stiles' father shook his head "I'd tell you stay away from Derek Hale as a precaution… but I know that's not happening; just remember you're not supernatural… okay?"

Stiles nodded seriously "Okay"

/

Derek Hale, Stiles decided, was officially the hardest werewolf to find.

He had searched for roughly an hour now, not bothering with phones because Derek was allergic to technology on a good day, and had come up with nothing. He had opted to instead ask another Hale, and with Cora completely intent on ignoring him that left him with one option.

He still wasn't too sure about Peter Hale; the eldest member of the werewolf family was all kinds of creepy, but at the same time surprisingly genuine when it came to his family. Stiles trusted that side of Peter, the side that had an undying loyalty to the last remnant of family he had left… the side Stiles didn't trust was the side that would kill family for power, the side that manipulated and lied.

"I honestly did not expect a visit from you Stiles" Peter greeted, smirking and leaning against the nearest doorframe, folding his arms across his chest "What brings you by?"

"I'm looking for Derek" Stiles answered, folding his own arms "Cora is stonewalling me and we both know he's allergic to phones; I've tried the preserve and all of his usual haunts" he continued, looking to the older male with his brows raised in question.

"Clearly you didn't look hard enough" Peter answered "You're forgetting Derek has a special little talent when it comes to shifting"

"Wolves" Stiles said in answer "You realise how hard it is to track animals? Let alone Derek?"

The older male smiled toothlessly "Figure it out: you're good at that"

/

"Derek! Heeeere boy!" Stiles called, whistling with a high pitched tone before continuing "Deeeeereeeeeek!"

"Dog jokes? Really?"

He didn't jump, but he did flinch and aim a punch, which was caught by the werewolf in question "There you are!"

"Here I am" Derek agreed, expression blank as he gently lowered Stiles' fisted hand.

Stiles fell silent, only an arm's length away from Derek, who was equally as silent, and they both stood between trees, the sun beginning to peak in the sky. Stiles felt no need to speak, to fill the silence, as he once would have…

He had had no reason to seek out Derek other than for company, and their silent conversation was more than enough for him, to see and be near someone he cared about was better than sitting alone in a college dorm reading or studying.

Every day he was reminded why he had decided to stay.

"You're quiet" Derek commented softly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and gently taking Stiles' hand, leading the younger male in the direction of the edge of the preserve.

"And you're talking" Stiles countered, tugging at the hand in his, pulling himself forward against Derek tightly "It's nice"

"Would it be mean if I said that I was about to say that to you?" Derek responded, a smile on his face.

"A complete sentence…. Amazing" Stiles quipped, gently shoving the werewolf and sidestepping Derek's own attempt at retaliation.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, and Stiles only grinned, waving at the werewolf and dodging again at the half-hearted shove.

"Really?" Derek asked disbelievingly, muscles tensing slightly in preparation in what was probably another attack.

Stiles grinned and nodded "Really"

He was on the ground pretty fast after that, sticks and other forest debris digging into his back, arms pinned by strong hands. Stiles only laughed, smiling widely at the werewolf pinning him and gently pulling one arm from Derek's grip in order to hold his hand.

"Okay, you're the Alpha" he admitted with a laugh.

Derek chuckled with a smile that was all teeth and ducked his head, tension leaving his body in one moment. They lay there for a long moment, Stiles' laughter dying down into silence.

As he made to speak again, Derek's head shot up to look further into the preserve and Stiles instantly fell silent, listening instead of speaking. Almost immediately, the werewolf's stance changed from playful to defensive, arms tensing where they now pressed into the ground at Stiles' side. Stiles gently started shimmying upright, but was immediately pushed back to the ground by Derek, who minutely shook his head and growled low in his chest, eyes glowing a bright blue.

Slowly and gently, Stiles reached to the belt of his jeans and pulled the hunting knife holstered there from its cover, thanking his conditioned precaution which he barely registered as part of his routine, and gripping the weapon firmly for reassurance.

"What is it?" he uttered, voice only a soft rasp as he aimed to stay quiet as possible.

"I don't know" Derek answered "But it doesn't feel right" the werewolf's own voice was barely a whisper, so quiet that it could have been mistaken for rustling of leaves or the wind scattering the underbrush.

"Let me up" Stiles instructed, pushing himself to his feet and crouching low next to Derek, glancing at him briefly before following his gaze into the preserve. He couldn't see anything, but he could definitely hear the sound of leaves being brushed against, sounds of branches and twigs snapping underfoot, the sound of low growls and panting.

"Wolves?" Stiles asked softly, squeezing the handle of his knife for comfort.

Derek shook his head "No, not wolves… something else"

Stiles fell silent again, listening to the footsteps, a single set ambling along, slowly growing louder. His knife felt like lead in his hands and his feet felt rooted to the spot, and then the noise finally had a face.

It ambled along on all fours, its weight resting on its knuckles just as an ape would. Its skin was course and taught, lean muscle spread across its large form. Its mouth manipulated forward and its eyes wider... it looked like a deformed wolf; lips pulled back and away from its mouth in an ever present snarl, eyes a bright, sickly green and skin a deathly grey colour, looking a lot like leather.

Slowly, it ambled forward, body moving as if on a pivot, legs moving in perfect synchronism as it picked up speed and growled the sound low and hellish with a deep echoing. Stiles reacted slowly, moving only after Derek, fully shifted, launched forward at the much larger creature: A lone wolf against a mighty stag.

Werewolves, the pack had discovered, had the ability to literally turn into wolves if they were well attuned to their power and only if their anchor was extremely strong. Only two of their pack had figured it out so far, the two being Derek and Scott. Stiles had yet to see either fully shift yet, and the full reality was shocking to say the least.

But he could write about it later.

He threw himself forward, dodging the large claws on one of the beast's paws, and sent a strong kick to the leathery hide of the creature, feeling a bone crack with a sickening crunch: a rib bone? The low roar that left the creature deafened Stiles, and the arm that smacked across his chest, sending him flying, pushed the air out of him in one moment that left him gasping on the ground. The beast's advance on Stiles was halted by Derek's own attack, the pitch black wolf leaping forward and throwing the creature off balance, advancing with teeth and claws to any part that was left unprotected. The beast swung at Derek this time, eliciting a high pitched yelp from the werewolf, and regaining its footing slowly, giving Stiles enough time to stand and throw his only weapon at the creature's back.

Universally, all pressure points were in the same area once the stance of an animal or human was taken into account, and from the way the monster froze mid strike and collapsed, a large puff of air leaving its nostrils, Stiles guessed it was the same for freaky monsters as well.

"You okay?" Stiles asked blindly, not bothering to check on Derek in favour of investigating the beast they'd killed.

"Fine" Derek responded, appearing at Stiles' side in seconds "You?"

"Winded: I'll live" Stiles answered vaguely, pulling the knife he'd buried in the beast's back up and out with a little effort and enlisting Derek's superior strength to help him flip the monster over.

"At least it's easily killed" Derek said, gently kicking at the beast's snout as Stiles examined its claws.

"Well, actually" Stiles began, voice straining as he lifted one of the creatures paws with difficulty "The blade is like a supernatural multi-tool… so it could be extremely hard to kill" he finished, lifting the claws at Derek and making a soft "rawr" at the werewolf, who simply shook his head.

They spent roughly an hour with the body, Stiles making two runs: the first to his home to retrieve a sketchpad and the second because he forgot a pencil, and he spent the time taking in every detail, drawing rough sketches and writing down all relevant traits, leaving Derek to his own devices.

The werewolf was a lot like a nosy puppy during that hour, lifting parts of the creature up and sniffing around before returning to Stiles to see what he was up to and going back and forth between the two.

"Your pacing is distracting me" Stiles commented, voice echoing in the still silence of the preserve, pencil scratching against the book in his hand, filling in the primitive lines of the drawing.

"I'm not… sorry" Derek admitted, ducking his head and sitting down beside Stiles, giving the body another kick from where he was sitting "It's just weird"

"You talking is weird, go back to growling" Stiles countered, shoving the werewolf beside him, who chuckled and lifted a chain off the ground "What've you got there?"

"A chain… necklace maybe?" Derek answered, leaning back against the tree Stiles was resting against and holding it to the slowly waning light.

Rustling started up again, and Stiles' knife was drawn in a moment, but then voices started too, youthful and weary.

And headed in their direction.

Stiles shared a glance with Derek, who stood up and pulled Stiles along with him, jerking his head to the left and then veering to the right. Stiles smirked: he knew where this was going.

They circled a pair of high school students, threading their way past trees and getting behind them, meeting one another in the middle.

One was a boy, a blonde mop of hair on his head dressed in a heavy jacket and jeans, holding the hand of a girl, also blonde, whose hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"Josh, we're never going to find it… besides, we're not even supposed to be out here" the girl pleaded softly. "The other girls say there are wolves out here"

"There are no wolves in California sis, that's a known fact" Josh responded to his sister, pulling her up the large incline he was on the top of "besides, it's gotta be around here somewhere"

Derek looked to Stiles, and then titled his head in question, which Stiles responded to by holding his hand out in the pair's direction "After you Sourwolf"

Derek smirked and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and immediately Stiles knew what was coming as he walked a few paces behind the werewolf as he called out.

"What are you doing here?" Derek called, voice echoing across the stillness of the preserve, gruff and assertive: exactly the way he had sounded when Stiles and Scott had been out on the preserve.

The teenagers spun around, guilt and shock written across their faces.

"This is private property" the werewolf continued, stopping to allow Stiles the time to catch up and stand half a step behind him.

"I… uh… sorry we…" Josh gabbled, flustered and clearly shocked by their sudden appearance.

"You were looking for something?" Stiles suggested, raising an eyebrow at the girl's assertive nod.

"A chain… silver, it's really important… have you seen it anywhere?" she asked nervously, voice soft and a little shaky.

Stiles nodded once and held out a hand to Derek, who looked to him and handed him the chain they had found. The idea was to keep the teenagers away from the beast's corpse and out of danger, giving them what they were looking for and maybe offering them a ride home was Stiles' theory to keep them out of the loop. He closed the distance from the pair in moments and gently placed the chain in the girl's hand.

"Come on" he commanded, waving a hand in their direction before turning to Derek with a smile "I'll catch you later"

Derek chuckled, breaking the façade that he had created "We both know I'm faster" he stated as he walked in the opposite direction, likely to loop around after they were out of sight.

Stiles shook his head and turned to the pair, inclining his head to the direction that he was going and leading the way. Not uttering a word as he strolled through the preserve and to the edge of the tree line where the road began and where his Jeep was parked.

"You walked out here?" Stiles asked disbelievingly, looking around for a car that wasn't his own.

"The estates are a lot closer now" the girl answered "It's not that far… it's still creepy though"

Stiles nodded in answer and turned to the pair, jerking a thumb at his Jeep "Want a ride?"

Josh shook his head "Don't take rides from strangers, sorry dude"

As they walked away, Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes "Teens"


	5. New Cracks

The moon was up, bringing a soft light into Stiles' room, drowned out by the artificial lamp on his desk as he poured over the notes he'd taken on the monster he'd ran into today. He didn't know nor want to find out where Derek had hidden it, or where the werewolf was, as he was afraid of the frightening answer he might receive. It was late, almost midnight, and Stiles hadn't taken much of a break yet, stopping only to call Scott and then pool his resources with Chris Argent, who had had no idea what Stiles was talking about but gave him his email anyway, telling Stiles to keep in contact.

Stiles stopped for a moment to run his hands through his hair and sigh loudly, stretching his legs out beneath the desk and then stretching his back against the chair, throwing his arms up over his head and rolling his wrists in little circles to loosen the tight joints there. He then pushed the chair over to his window and opened it fully, grinning when Derek climbed through, an impressed look on his face.

"You heard me coming?" the werewolf asked as he laid a firm hand on Stiles' shoulder, letting it slip off as he claimed a seat on the nearby bed.

"I had a hunch" Stiles answered, swivelling the chair around to face Derek and pressed his fingers together gently, leaning back in his chair "What did you find out?"

"About as much as you" Derek answered, gesturing to the piles of papers with writing that was struck through with red "Nothing conclusive… were the kids alright?"

Stiles nodded "Never suspected a thing and also did not take a ride: they're smart, but not dangerously so"

"It could be worse I suppose" the werewolf admitted, falling back on Stiles' bed, arms folding over his chest "Scott would know"

"Yep" Stiles agreed, standing from the chair and joining Derek on the bed "Funny how much we've come to rely on him… remember when it was 'fend for yourself' and we were all fighting over the stupidest things instead of dealing with the dangerous ones?"

The werewolf hummed "Bull-headedness… on both our parts"

"If I had more bull-headedness maybe you throwing me around wouldn't have hurt so much" Stiles teased with a laugh, listening as Derek laughed too.

They fell silent then, listening to the house settle and the night carry on without them, the moon still shining brightly above them, filtering weak light into Stiles' room. Gently, afraid to startle the man next to him, Stiles stood and switched off the light on his desk, strengthening the moonlight tenfold. Now his room had a white glow to it, and large shadows dominated the corners further away from the window. Stiles could make out the icy blue of Derek's eyes in the dark, and when he sat back down the werewolf turned to him, the blue fading down to revert to their natural colour.

"So… you turn into a wolf now?" Stiles asked, pulling his legs up to his chest and rocking slightly.

"I… only if I want to" Derek answered, turning over onto his side and propping himself up on his forearm "I'm not stuck turning that way, I can shift in whichever way I chose to"

"Oh" Stiles responded, lying back and hanging his legs over the edge at the knee, folding his hands over his stomach and kicking his legs out rhythmically "I had this weird idea that whenever you got mad you turned into a wolf…" he laughed softly

Derek smiled fondly at Stiles, shaking his head.

Stiles sat up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows "You want me to shut up?"

Derek shook his head again "No, keep talking, I don't mind" he assured, pushing himself up into a sitting position, back resting against the head of Stiles' bed and patting the space next to him.

"We should be trying to catch and catalogue those things out there, not bonding" Stiles argued, even as he crawled up to the head of the bed to join Derek, resting his head on the werewolf's shoulder.

"You've been working all evening… this is a break" Derek explained with a smile "Now… what were you saying?"

Stiles lifted both hands in the universal gesture of 'I-don't-know' and settled into the werewolf. They were silent for a moment, and then, unpredictably, Derek started talking.

"Those six years apart from the pack was difficult" he began, eyes closed as he wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders "But the reason I ran, the reason I abandoned my Alpha… was because I was scared" Derek paused for a moment when Stiles shifted his position, resting his head on the werewolf's chest. "I was scared of Scott, and I was scared of what finding your parents would bring to Beacon Hills… I was scared at the lack of control I would have, I was worried that somehow my worth would go down… It was stupid but I ran regardless…. I wasn't a good Alpha, but that didn't stop me from wanting to be one… I ran because I was being selfish"

"For once" Stiles supported, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist "You were always selfless with us, putting yourself on the line for the pack, for me… even when we were at each other's throat you were saving me, putting yourself after everyone else… a little selfishness from you was probably justified" he explained, closing his eyes "To be honest I freaked out because you weren't there to be selfless, and without that gravity behind them I think the pack lost something then… it was hard for them…. That's why they reacted the way they did to seeing you again"

"Stiles…" Derek sounded chocked and Stiles opened his eyes, noting a look of gratefulness in the werewolf's gaze "I… thank you… I've spent the last six years doing nothing but regretting my decisions… you… thank you"

Stiles smiled toothlessly "Eh, it was nothing, just the average ramble"

The kiss he was pulled into was gentle and unlike what he had expected from Derek, who pressed his forehead to Stiles' firmly "It was far from average"

/

Scott returned the next day, and as soon as he stepped off of his dirt bike Stiles was talking to him, pulling him by the arm into his own house and then setting down the satchel he had strapped to his chest.

"Okay, so, here's what you missed" Stiles began, pointing at Scott when his friend looked to him with confusion "Just wait; there's more"

"You sound like an infomercial announcer" Scott noted amusedly, a smile on his face: the 'Stiles is nuts' smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled out his version of a bestiary, a large leather bound book the colour of oak which he pulled open to the most recent entry: the beast he and Derek had fought in the preserve.

"Derek and I found a pack of these things in the preserve, we fought one of them but have no idea what it's vulnerable to… we would like your superior Alpha judgment" Stiles began, holding up a hand when Scott aimed to speak "_Also_ the estates are getting closer to the preserve, and dad has been getting reports of animal attacks starting up again, Peter agrees that it's probably these things but no one has any idea what they are… you can speak now"

"Uh… okay, I have no idea what they are either Stiles… but um, maybe if we figure out what they're vulnerable to we can narrow it down?" Scott answered slowly, moving to the side when Stiles sat down next to him and stared hard at his own crude drawings next the photos he'd gotten which had proven difficult to get.

"I've been working on that but, in reality, we won't figure it out unless we have one that's alive… and trust me Scott; that's dangerous" Stiles argued "I realise that both you and Derek have superior power-"

"And Peter" Scott interrupted, shrugging when Stiles turned to him with wide eyes: one, he'd interrupted, and two, he'd withheld information.

"You, Derek _and_ Peter have superior shifting power and you're the True Alpha but restraining the thing without it alerting the rest of its pack would be difficult even if we do manage to chain it up" Stiles continued, hitting his friend on the shoulder "Can you tell me next time Peter gets more power? That's the sort of stuff I need to know before I go to see him _alone_… I knew he was being smug for a reason!"

"I didn't think I was being smug… Was I smug?"

Stiles _nearly_ jumped five feet in the air when Peter appeared seemingly out of nowhere with his arms folded and Stiles regretted the day he had suggested that Peter begin to give Scott some advice on werewolf-y matters: it meant that the eldest Hale was everywhere Scott was when he was in Beacon Hills.

Scott only smiled and rolled his eyes, patting Stiles on the shoulder, hand lingering in a brotherly reassurance "I'm watching him… so, anyway, we need a plan"

"No, I need more information" Stiles corrected his best friend gently, glancing between the two werewolves in the room "There are two more people I can ask"

"I'll talk to Deaton" Scott agreed, nodding his head and standing along with Stiles, who tried to sigh dramatically without smiling.

"Guess that means I'm going back to high school" he relented with a smirk.

/

Beacon Hills High School, home of all of his unpopularity and the craziness of teenage life, home of between class meetings and note passing and lacrosse. Stiles sighed in a reminiscent way and almost jumped when he noted that Derek was standing next to him, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders set.

"Can we make a pact to not sneak up on each other?" Stiles asked; exasperated, as he began walking up the steps of the school's front entrance.

"No, it's still amusing to see the brief moments of panic when I almost scare you: we're not making a pact" Derek responded, chuckling when Stiles shoved him roughly, taking one step to the side to avoid the second shove with a small smile.

"You are an awful person, I hate-love you right now" Stiles said, almost running into the students making their ways through the halls, moving closer to Derek to achieve some sort of barrier between himself and the student body.

"Hate-love?" Derek asked with a grin, pulling Stiles to him by the younger male's shirt and winding an arm around his shoulders tightly

"Well, like I said: I love you, but right now, you're annoying me, so I hate-love you… make sense?" Stiles explained, looking over to the werewolf and finding the same smile there.

"Sort of, I'll ask for an essay later" the werewolf teased, smile reaching his eyes as he opened the door to the counsellor's office for Stiles "Don't be mean"

"When am I ever mean?" Stiles asked incredulously, scoffing at the raised eyebrow he got in response.

The door closed behind him and he smiled and waved at Morell, who raised an eyebrow at him as he sat down and leant forward before stopping to reach into the satchel at his side, digging out his bestiary and flipping to the beast in question.

"Have you seen this thing before?" Stiles asked, pointing to the photo instead of the crude drawing that he had on the adjacent page.

"Hello to you too Stiles" she responded with a knowing look, glancing down at the photo for a long moment, before saying "zmutowany wilk" with a smug smile.

Stiles scoffed and stared at the older woman for a long moment "That's Polish for mutated wolf… we're dealing with a wolf mutant?"

"Yes, easily killed but just as easily created" she answered, steepling her fingers and leaning back in her chair.

"Okay…" Stiles began, glancing behind him at the knock on the door and standing, wanting to ask more but knowing how suspicious he would seem to whoever was waiting outside, taking the bestiary and dropping it back into the bag "Thanks, as weird as it was you were helpful"

"Be careful Stiles"

He was out of the door before he could get out a reply and sidestepped the teenager in front of him, re-joining Derek at the end of the hall.

He was silent for a long time, as they exited the high school Derek sighed loudly and stopped Stiles mid walk by grabbing at the collar of his shirt and yanking hard.

"What?!" Stiles half yelled, glaring at the werewolf and readjusting his shirt.

"You've got something to say" Derek responded "Go"

"It feels too easy? I would have said that when we got back you know? I mean, what with Scott and Peter being in the audience and-"

"No" Derek interrupted, giving Stiles 'the look' (The glare that said 'why am I hanging out with people younger than me and relying on them for information' – it was a good glare)

"Oh alright… Those two teens yesterday, which lost the chain? How did they get out there? Why were they out there to lose it?... there are too many variables Derek: it makes me nervous" Stiles answered, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to the werewolf to follow him "There's too much room for a mistake"

"We'll figure it out" Derek assured, patting Stiles on the back as they slid into the Camaro "Always do"

"I hope so, otherwise we could be in big trouble, and I'm sick of trouble and what comes with it" Stiles replied.

"What comes with it?" Derek asked as he started the car and rocketed off

"Losing people"


	6. Keeping Up

It took them four hours to get a hold of their "zmutowany wilk", having to dance around the pack of them for hours before getting a hold of one on its own and then finding somewhere, which was eventually the basement of the still existent Hale house, to drag it to _and then _chaining the beast up.

It was strange being surrounded by werewolves again, but also comforting; most of the people he had known in Stanford had been human, but there had been one vampire and the guy was so creepy it made it hard for Stiles to fall asleep (which was another reason for the single dorm – which he had finally emptied out a day after they had figured out what they'd needed to know about the terrible monsters in Beacon Hills which were killing so many people).

"They're really creepy up close" Scott noted quietly, wrinkling his nose in a grimace when the beast snapped at him.

"Tell me about it" Stiles agreed, folding his arms and leaning against Derek, who glanced at him before turning back to Scott.

"Strong too" Cora added, this being the first time she'd spoken since they'd employed her help: her stance reading impatient yet stoic – she was definitely Derek's sister "Should we call the pack?"

"Isaac's on his way, but everyone else seems to be unreachable" Scott answered with a hint of frustration in his tone "We won't be much better for numbers"

"Okay!" Stiles began, jumping at the loudness of his voice and stepping forward "So, what we know, is that while not necessarily a trademark monster, this thing has been named in several cultures what roughly translates to mutated wolf, so we can safely assume that they possess no magic power whatsoever…" looking around the same group, Stiles nodded to himself and continued "The true power is with whatever created the mutants, which we've assumed is something with some kind of magical prowess a witch, warlock, fae, trickster… we don't know yet. The beast itself however, we can describe"

He paused then and looked over to Scott, who nodded, urging him on silently.

"Speed, strength, strong jaws, large form… savage and also a little mindless" Stiles summarised, looking to the beast for a brief moment and pulling a hunting knife – not his supernatural multi-tool – from its sheath at his hip and pressing the blade into the beast's right forearm "Susceptible to sharp objects with no magical properties, but with a tough hide"

"So, we're dealing with, in their most basic description, a killing machine" Peter added, smiling toothlessly at Stiles when the younger male scowled at the interruption.

"Basically: yes" Stiles finished "I was getting there"

"Too slowly" Cora argued, folding her arms a little tighter "How do we find the source?"

"We haven't figured that out yet" Scott answered, moving over to where Stiles was standing, cleaning his chosen knife with a black cloth, removing the dark blood there with precision.

The small group stood together in silence for a long moment, the only sounds being those above ground of the old house creaking and settling irregularly. Then, almost all at once, the werewolves all looked to the roof of the basement and Stiles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and once again wishing for their hearing.

"What?" he asked softly.

"More of them" Cora whispered "Must have followed our scent" she explained as she crept up the stairs and inched the door open without so much as a noise being caused and then holding up four fingers to the rest of the group: four beasts.

Stiles shared a look with Scott as he pulled the knife he'd just cleaned from its sheathe, hearing the faint hiss it gave as it scraped on the leather it was settled in and the group all tensed at the sound of a growl above them. Slowly, carefully, they moved up and out of the basement, checking for the beasts before slowly moving out of the house one by one.

Stiles stayed back with Scott, and the silent argument he had had with Derek had seemed to last a lifetime before the older male finally relented and carefully moved off. Their escape would have gone smoothly if not for a mistimed step and then Scott's foot was through the floorboards with a loud, resounding _crack._ It split the tense silence in two, and then the beasts were on them all at once. It took only a moment for the werewolves to collect themselves and then there was fighting everywhere. Stiles flipped the knife in his hand once, planning on causing a general nuisance to the beasts that got the advantage over the werewolves before he felt the heavy vibration of footsteps from behind him: the beast in the basement.

Its arm was still oozing blood, and Stiles could have sworn the thing _grinned_ before it leapt at him, only missing him thanks to an evasive dive. Almost instantly, Stiles was fighting back, only blocking and dodging until an opening in the beast's attacks allowed for one of his own which drove his knife deep in leathery skin. Not bothering to remove the weapon as the beast roared, Stiles took a weary step back, picking at the lighter set of knives strapped to the upper part of his leg, taking two into the spaces between his fingers and pulling them from their sheathes, throwing both over his own beast's body and into the neck of the beast bearing down on Scott, who glanced at him with a look of first thanks, then fear. Stiles shook his head, pointing at the beast Scott was fighting, and then going back to his own, which was shakily standing. A badly timed dodge sent Stiles through one of the already weak walls after another few minutes of dodging and countering. He coughed harshly and ignored the twinge he felt in his back as he picked himself back up. Slowly, the sound of fighting was dying down, roars dwindling into a heavy, muffled sort of noise that might have signalled dying moments.

The beast shoved through the hole Stiles had created, roaring at him once more, and Stiles wished for the knife protruding out of the beast's shoulder as it advanced on him. Thankfully, the beast was halted by a wolf that was almost - if not for the grey tinges and the greyer marks on its paws – white that leapt onto its back and latched onto the back of its neck. Stiles took the distraction for what it was and pulled his knife free, ducking the cruel jaws of the beasts and plunging his weapon into its neck, stepping back to avoid the crushing weight of it as it fell to the floor. Stiles shared a look with the wolf, before it seemingly nodded and sprinted off in the other direction, where the remaining beast was cornered by a group of almost wolves: if not for Cora. Quickly and efficiently the pack took down the beast and shifted back to a human appearance.

Stiles forced a smile at Derek when he caught his gaze, and the werewolf strode over to him with obvious purpose, touching two fingers to his side carefully, manipulating Stiles to turn around.

"I'm fine" he forced, trying but failing not to wince at the gentle prod of fingers to his back.

"Quit getting hurt, its scaring me" Derek uttered softly before turning to Scott "We need to be quicker than this: we'll lose control of the situation soon enough"

Scott nodded "We'll work harder then, we've got an idea of what they're like and who could be creating them: we'll just expand on it"

"I'll get out the ol' 'supernatural contacts' book and see who our mystery creator is" Stiles announced, cracking his knuckles purely for dramatics, and then sighing at the concerned look Scott gave him "I'm not high school Stiles anymore Scott… I'm injured: not bedridden"

"Well…" Peter began lewdly, smirking when Derek growled in his general direction.

Cora shook her head at her uncle and turned to Stiles "See what you can dig up, I'll keep my phone on and see if it doesn't have anything to do with the new estates or if we can somehow track these things back to something useful"

"Thank you Cora" Stiles beamed, a brighter tone to his voice "That's incredibly helpful of you"

Cora smirked and as she walked past Stiles she shoved him gently "I know: keep me posted Red"

"I wear it one time!" Stiles exclaimed at her retreating back, throwing his arms out to his sides and almost knocking Derek, who caught the arm _before_ it ran into his face "Sorry"

"Come on" Peter said to the other three people in the room "I'm sick of this house"

/

He was back in his room, only an hour after his father making him sit down and eat before handing him an ice pack for his back and letting him be free, researching everything and anything he could think of that related to the beasts they were currently dealing with: anything he could find that was related to wolves and Polish folk lore and rituals. Nothing jumped out at his already tired mind, and his eyes grew sore as the night wore on, a mug of coffee joining the bestiary, knives and papers on the desk he was sitting at.

He got a text at about twelve at night and it woke him up instantly, the loud ping jolting him out of the fogginess of the between world of sleep and awareness.

It was from Cora: _You said Polish didn't you?_

_Yes, why, did you find something?_

_I'm not sure._

With the message came a photograph of a road, engraved with thin lines which were brought together to make circles, along with dust particles in the cracks.

_Looks like ritual work: Come by and I'll try and dig something up_

It only took Cora about four minutes to turn up at his window, and Stiles sighed and lifted the lower half up for the werewolf.

"What is with Hales and not using doorways?" Stiles asked rhetorically, sitting back down at the desk and watching Cora pick apart his room with sharp eyes before she sat down on his bed.

"When we were kids we'd crawl across the roof of our house to each other's rooms and have secret sleepovers: I broke my leg once and our mom went nuts in the morning, we didn't know how she knew but we didn't try to do it again for at least a month" she replied, not realising it was rhetorical until after she spoke, when she pursed her lips tightly.

"Once I jumped from my roof because I thought I could fly" Stiles mentioned without prompting "I broke my leg, Scott thought I was awesome for the next week until I told him why I tried it"

"Why?" Cora asked softly, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"I thought I could control the Matrix and wanted to try to make myself fly" Stiles admitted, grinning at the laugh he elicited from the werewolf.

As Stiles turned back to his research, Cora started talking to him, her voice soft and tentative in the still silence in his room.

"I miss those days, now more than ever… it was all so simple back then, you know? I had a family: everyone was happy and while we weren't perfect we were all together…"

Stiles swivelled around and watched the youngest Hale cautiously; Derek he knew, knew how to comfort him and the right things to say, but Cora… Cora he didn't know. "You've got the pack now" he said slowly, watching as she looked to him with a gentle smile and he knew he'd said the right thing.

"I do" she replied, grinning at Stiles as she stood from his bed and swivelled him back around "What have you got?"

"Circles are both Celtic and Polish when it comes to magic and spells; this might have been ritual work: which is more than likely the case and could be where our mutant wolves came from… but we don't know that yet so… let's just assume we have a Celtic or Polish witch or warlock on our hands for now…"

"Should we tell Scott?" Cora asked, gaze falling on Stiles slowly.

"Maybe in the morning: I'd rather look over it with a rested mind before ramming down his door and making accusations and then maybe getting hit over the head with a baseball bat" Stiles answered, rubbing his eyes tiredly, feeling the burn of lack of blinking instantly.

Cora hummed in agreement, and then patted Stiles on the shoulder before leaving out the window, alighting from the roof with grace and silence, but not before closing the window behind her.

Stiles sighed loudly and got up from the chair he was in, flopping backwards onto his bed, almost missing it but saving himself by gripping the sheets tightly and pulling himself up properly and closing his eyes, listening to the dull pounding in his head from lack of sleep and the soft sound of wind being redirected by the solid strength of the house. The moon was waning, but still bright in the sky as it filtered through his window, cold air seeping through the small cracks between the pane and the frame.

A long yawn left him and he turned to his side, facing the wall and kicking his shoes off laboriously, hearing the dull thunks against the carpeting, after that, Stiles settled in and breathed out slowly, allowing the sweet siren call of sleep carry him away.

/

"We should go and interrogate those teenagers" Derek said as soon as Stiles was in the Camaro.

"Interrogate? That's a bit extreme… don't you think?" Stiles asked "Besides… Scott wants us… me… to look at that circle- thing Cora found last night" he added with a little bitterness

"He's trying to keep you out of trouble… don't be so melodramatic" Derek retorted, flexing his grip on the steering wheel "I'm coming with you: think about that instead"

"If I weren't so frustrated or tired I'd call out that innuendo… but as it is… no" Stiles responded, stifling a yawn and groaning at the stab behind his eyes.

He hadn't slept well the night before, both the cold weather of Beacon Hills and the lack of sleep were bearing down on him in colds and insomnia, and was feeling the weariness now more than ever in the heated Camaro, the wind rushing around them with a hissing sound.

"I know it won't help now but, maybe you should try to just sleep tonight, instead of staying up for hours?" Derek suggested, pulling the car up at one of the crossroads in the new estate: where Cora had followed the beasts until she'd lost them.

"That's a good idea, both ideas that were yours are good ones" Stiles assented, jumping out of the car as it came to a stop and gravitated toward the circles on the road, pulling a piece of string from the satchel at his hip and kneeling down beside the circles. "But this thing here is slightly more important"

"More important than sleep? Who are you and what have you done with Stiles?" Derek replied in a teasing tone, kneeling down next to him and scratching at the asphalt gently, nails catching a deep red pigment beneath them "Dried blood" he noted quietly.

Stiles glanced at the werewolf for a moment and then stopped measuring the circles to join his side "Blood magic?"

"Maybe" Derek answered "You'd know better than me"

Stiles nodded and took stock of the dried blood and dust particles that were stuck within the circles "Why Polish?" he asked rhetorically, tracing the circles as he spoke "Are you from Poland? Is Polish magic stronger than most? Why mutant wolves? Do you have a vendetta?"

"I don't think the road will answer you, no matter how much you talk to it" Derek noted, grinning at the scowl Stiles sent his way "Okay, sorry, it's not helpful I know… Here" the werewolf continued, shuffling to Stiles' side and examining the blood under his fingers "What do you know about Polish magic?"

"Okay… a lot of it is done quite easily, the use of dust and plants that are easily gathered are common… there's not a lot of incantation involved in most spells but there's a lot of help from deities and whatnot… that's about it" Stiles answered, looking between the circles and Derek at even intervals.

"So is the blood relevant?" Derek prompted gently, smiling softly when Stiles shook his head and a smile graced his features.

"That means that the blood may be completely unrelated to the spell" Stiles announced quietly "And then that means that the likelihood of this whole thing being Polish is increased, which narrows the possible spells, which means that it was either a transformation or an animation spell"

"And he's done it again" Derek stated with a grin, gently pushing Stiles to the right "Knew you could do it"

"And it only took me what? Twenty minutes? I'm getting pretty good at this" Stiles added with a smirk, using his hands to support him when Derek shoved him roughly and Stiles laughed "I'm getting good, but I still need help from grumpy Sourwolves… okay?"

Derek grinned as he stood; pulling Stiles up with him by the arm "It'll do… now what?"

"I'd say research but I think it's outgrown its usefulness, wanna mess around?" Stiles answered, linking his left hand with Derek's right and swinging their arms gently.

"Do you think that's a good idea? People are dying" Derek asked, concern reaching his gaze.

"They're only killing at night: and don't forget the others are unavailable until we get the 'ok'… I think it's a reasonable good idea" Stiles argued, stopping mid stride and pulling Derek's arm to have the werewolf stop as well.

Derek raised an eyebrow first, and then he grinned "Alright"

/

"My head hurts" Stiles announced, reaching up a hand to touch at the offending thumping, and rolling to lie on his back.

"Probably because you managed to ram it into about five walls on the way up here" Derek murmured softly, throwing an arm around Stiles' midriff and chuckling.

Stiles laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck "Oh yeah… I feel like an idiot" he then rolled back onto the side.

"Feel like a loved idiot then" the werewolf responded, chuckling again "I still don't understand _how_ you hit your head though"

"Let's face it: how I do anything without getting injured is a complete mystery" Stiles said with a laugh "Me hitting my head was bound to happen"

"Your phone is ringing" Derek said softly, pressing a kiss to his neck.

"Why tell me? I'm just going to ignore it" Stiles asked with a grin

"It could be Scott: they might have found something… hang on" Stiles felt the bed dip behind him, and then Derek was answering his phone for him "What?"

Stiles grinned and chocked back a laugh at the harsh tone of the werewolf's voice "Jeez Derek be nice"

"Shut up, listening" Derek responded with a grin "Okay… good: we'll be there" after hanging up, the werewolf pulled Stiles so that his back was on the bed instead of his side "Scott thinks they have a lead on our warlock and Isaac is here now: they want us to regroup at Scott's house" he informed matter-of-factly.

Stiles groaned and then laughed "Of course he finds something _now_: Scott's always had impeccable timing" then, after sitting up and watching Derek dress for a moment, he added "Hey, where do you live?"

"You're asking this now?" the werewolf responded, almost tripping over as he pulled on a boot one handed, using the other to run through his hair, ridding it of its static appearance from Stiles' pillow.

"I only just considered it now" Stiles explained as he stuck his arms through the sleeves of a red hoodie, knocking the hood off of his brow gently and ruffling his own hair: knowing how it looked but not having the energy to care.

"I have an apartment about ten minutes out of Beacon Hills, near the university… have you seen my shirt?" Derek answered, scratching at his collarbone absently as his eyes searched the room.

Stiles launched himself off of his bed and scrambled beneath it, dragging the blue Henley out and tossing it at Derek, moving over to the werewolf and kissing him once the shirt was over his head "I still can't believe I get to do that now without receiving bodily harm"

"I could still throw you around" Derek argued, playfully wrapping a hand over the material of his hoodie "Slam you into a few walls and what-not"

Stiles chuckled and wrapped his hand around Derek's "Isn't that what you just did?"

The blush Stiles managed to achieve had him grinning as he led the way down the stairs, making a beeline for the leather jacket on the coat hanger and freezing at the sound of a throat clearing.

It was his dad, and Stiles finally understood what mortified felt like: how long had he been home? Why did he care?

Before he could say a word, Derek smiled and shook his father's hand "Good to see you again sir"

"You too Derek" his dad said in response "And I keep telling you it's John"

Stiles found himself almost bouncing on his toes: not only were his two favourite people he loved getting along – but there was a super important thing happening here: Meet the Parent was going well.

While he had been musing, an entire conversation had happened and Derek was gently guiding Stiles out of the house, grabbing his jacket on the way and promising to come over for dinner; once they were out of the house, Stiles almost exploded.

"My dad wants you on first name basis?" He asked, excitement causing his voice to squeak slightly.

Derek chuckled as he slid into his car "He insists: I refuse"

Stiles just shook his head and grinned "I'm glad"

/

His good mood seemed to be rubbing off on Derek, who had a small smile on his face and had entwined their hands as they had made their way to the front door of Scott's house. They had been talking softly on the way over, and Stiles had completely forgotten what the topic was by the time they had stepped into the house, and the second Scott spoke to them - the days events seemed to pinpoint on those very words.

"You're not going to believe this"


End file.
